


We don't need this Masquerade

by TheAceMerperson



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Harry is a rebel, M/M, No Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3176424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAceMerperson/pseuds/TheAceMerperson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone wears a mask. That is the law. And a pretty good one at that. No one is judged by what their face looks like, and your opinion of the person really is based on their personality and actions. However there are those who defy this law, those who have managed to steal a set of keys from the bank that open these masks. They are criminals, fleeing the law. But in Draco's perfect world that is the least of his concerns.<br/>Then again, things always change on one's birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This idea started out as original fiction but somehow turned into Harry Potter. The main character physically resembled Draco so much I just had to give it a go. Plus the whole mask-Death Eaters thing.  
> (Basically excuses as to why this fic is a mess.)

The day before Draco's birthday there's a break in at the key bank. Which, if you asked him, was inevitable. The news had been too quiet lately and the authorities too relaxed. It was only a matter of time before the Unmasked broke into another bank and caused panic among the citizens. But as usual Draco felt unconcerned with the events.

At least until he came down for breakfast on the morning of his birthday to find his father already at the table. It was rare for Lucius Malfoy to be present at breakfast, let alone be early. He held an important position in their city's governing chambers and rarely had time during the week for interaction with his family.

"Good morning father."

"If only, Draco, if only." Lucius sighed and rubbed his temples with his long ink stained fingers. A fresh newspaper lay in his lap. He looked up at his son with tired grey eyes and said:

"The bank that was broken into held our keys."

Draco couldn't help but shiver.

It was a simple but brilliant idea really. The masks auto cleaned themselves, let their wearers eat, drink and breathe, and most importantly made discrimination based on the appearance of one's face impossible. Yes, it made it impossible to see one's facial expression but that was a small price to pay for equality. 

Of course there were those who opposed the mandatory masking. But it was only 170 years later that the Unmasked made their move. The first break in led to about a thousand forced unmaskings. Those who were unmasked willingly or not were hunted down and either imprisoned or masked again. Order was a priority. Equality was necessary.

However, the probability that the Malfoys would actually be targeted and umasked on their son's birthday was minimal and the celebrations went on even though Narcissa kept glancing nervously the door. Not for the first time Draco wished he could smile reassuringly at her. The masks would not accomodate a smile though, and he settled for placing a hand on her arm and squeezing it comfortingly.

Narcissa looked up at her son and sighed.

"You look wonderful Draco. I'm glad we chose the blue. It suits you so well."

Apparently some of the guests thought so too. Draco danced with a few of his friends and the daughter of his father's coworker. The girl kept stepping on his feet and not even the mask could hold back his hisses and yelps every time her heel dug into his toes. After two unsuccessful attempts at communicating to his friends that he needed saving with his eyes he was surprised when rescue came under the form of a dark haired young man. He tactfully cut in with some excuse Draco didn't bother with listening to. Once the girl was far away enough he looked down at his saviour and found bright green eyes looking up at him. The young man's mask was simple, with gold swirls all over, and Draco scrunched up his nose at the thought that it was the wrong color for such beautiful vivid eyes.

"Thank you for that. I'm sure my feet were about to start bleeding."

"My pleasure." The young man laughed. "I think your friends just didn't notice the panic in your eyes. It was hard to miss though."

Draco felt his face heating beneath his mask. For some reason, knowing he'd had his dance partner's attention for long enough for him to notice that was more flattering than any of the compliments that anyone gave him that evening. The young man slowly twirled them across the dance floor. His dark hair is messily flopping about and Draco suddenly felt the urge to run his fingers through it. So he did. He slipped his hands up from the shoulder and the neck and almost purred when he reached the soft locks.

His fingers moved even higher, but as they bypassed the mask lock in order to tug at a bouncy strand at the top of the dancer's head something clicked and the man freezed.

The rest happened in slow motion. Draco stepping back as the mask clattered to the floor, revealing a tan face with light stubble and a surprised expression. Lucius and the guests screaming in alarm. A whistle and gust of air as a broom broke through the ballroom window before the young man jumped onto it and flew out through the broken glass.

The golden mask lay abandoned on the empty floor as the guests retreated to the walls.

 

Continuing the party is out of question once the authorities arrive to question the guests and his family on what they had seen. Draco couldn't be bothered anyway. An unlocked mask means only one thing: he had been dancing with a criminal. Surprisingly that fact barely bothers him. He can still feel soft hair under his fingertips and warm green eyes on his own. And no mask could compare with how wonderfully flawed his true face looked. Draco remembers seeing a scar on his forehead and pink lips that, even with his limited amount of knowledge on kissing, he wants to take for his own.

He shakes his head. This is a criminal after all.

Draco finishes answering questions and giving a description of the man to the officer and walks off to keep out of the way of the others. Lucius is gesturing wildly at one of the other officers. He sounds angry. Draco winces when he thinks what awaits him for the period of time between now and when the keys are returned. Staying at home, not seeing anyone but his few friends, no more flying or strolls out in the garden.

The curtain behind him rustles and Draco looks around for the source of the movement. Suddenly there are warm calloused fingers on his nape and someone whispers:

"It's payback."

Draco automatically lurches forward but it's too late. His own mask, silver with its leaf pattern around the edges, unclasps and despite his best attempt to keep it from falling it rattles to the ground. Draco feels everyone's eyes on him. Narcissa screams and next thing he knows his mother is pushing him through the door, locking it behind her. Her soft palm presses agains his cheek. His real cheek.

"Run, Draco. Run my dragon. NOW."

He trusts his mother more than anything and doesn't even question it. There's a banging on the door and flashes of spells through the keyhole. Draco grabs the wand from his pocket and Disapparates.

 

Clearly he didn't think things through because he finds himself knees deep in murky water, surrounded by tall grass and reeds. His dress shoes are sinking into the soil beneath him. It makes him want to whine.

Getting out of the bog isn't easy. He doesn't know where he's going or what he's going to do once he gets out of it. Surely the authorities will be on the trail of the Malfoy heir. Where will he be able to hide?

Draco is so lost in his thoughts that when he slips on the mud he doesn't react fast enough and winds up sprawled in his back in the dirty water. A frog croaks somewhere, as if mocking him. 

"Those shoes aren't made for this kind of walking, you know." Someone says above him, their light airy voice carrying clearly in the silence.

"Well I didn't expect to be landing here, did I?" Draco grumbles and sits up. A pale freckled hand reaches out and yanks him to his feet. He finds himself face to face with a girl with long blond hair and a curious look on her lightly sunburnt face. Her face. 

"You don't...have a mask?"

"Never have." She shrugs and tugs him along with her by the sleeve. Draco follows without asking anything. If she doesn't have a mask, she might not mind him around at least until he figures out what to do now that he's on the run. The girl just keeps on talking as they walk on through the water and grass. 

"You don't have a mask either, but I take it you used to. Your skin is way too pale for someone who spends their time hiking in the grasslands. I think Harry might help you out though. He wears a mask. What's your name?"

He doesn't even think about lying. "Draco."

"I'm Luna. Well, Draco, we're home."

She gestures to the small unstable looking wooden hut hidden among a small gathering of rocks in the middle of the tall reeds. It doesn't look like much, but Draco is still wet from falling into the water and he's tired from walking. Luna pushes the door open and squeals in delight.

"Harry, you're home already!"

There is a cloaked man hunched over a long table inside the house, he doesn't turn even when Luna skips over to where he is to hug him. She leans up to whisper something in his ear and the man visibly tenses. 

"Don't be like that, Harry. He's all alone and he lost his mask and look at him. He's drenched."

Fiinally the man turns around and Draco is taken aback by the strange plain black mask he's wearing. The cloak and hood he's wearing are covering most of him, but Draco can see strong rough fingers spinning the wand the man holds in his hand. With a few swooshes his clothes are dry again and he can't help but sigh.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet kid. This isn't the best place for someone unmasked to be."

"But Luna is..."

The man laughs, his voice unnaturally hoarse in Draco's ears and says: "Luna can take care of herself. You however, judging by your clothes, aren't very familiar with how the outside world works."

Draco feels his face heat up at that. That's exactly why the masks were in place. So no one would judge people by their looks. It takes him a moment to realize the man only commented on his clothes, not his face. He reaches up to press his fingers against his cheek, the skin uncharacteristically smooth and soft, unlike his old mask. He must look startled because the man clears his throat and waves at Luna.

"Get the guy a mirror, he's obviously never seen his pretty face."

While Luna is gone to get a mirror, the man approaches Draco and looks him over. It feels oddly intimate without his mask on and Draco can't help but squirm.

"Alright, let's lay down some ground rules. You call me Potter, not Harry. Harry is for friends and for all I know you're going to run off to the rest of the Masked and tell them all about Luna. I don't trust you but she thinks you need help. You'll have to work for your place here. Luna has a garden and I'm sure your delicate hands can get used to a little labour. You look well off enough so I assume you know how to duel. She doesn't have a wand so in the unlikely scenario of you both getting attacked you protect her back. Is that clear?"

Draco swallows hard. The black mask covers the man's eyes but he can feel the piercing gaze behind it. "Yes."

The man nods and walks out of the room and up the stairs. A door slams shut. Luna reappears in the kitchen, or what Draco assumes is the kitchen in this place, and hands him a mirror. It has a crack on one side but it's in pretty good condition. When his eyes finally drift to his reflection Draco is startled by how pale he looks, almost transparent. His grey eyes look panicked and no matter how hard he tries to control his expression the frown doesn't go away. His lips are pale and thin, giving his whole angular face a cold appearance. He hands the mirror back to Luna with a sigh.

"Quite handsome, right?"

"I wouldn't know." He says. For a second his mind drifts back to the guy he danced with, his tan healthy skin and strong jawline. For some reason, even though the young man is solely responsible for his current condition, he wants to tell Luna that he's the handsome one. Instead he smiles at her and says: "So, Ha...Potter told me you'd need help in the garden."


	2. Chapter 2

Gardening is hard. Especially so because Luna doesn't cultivate just any plants. Some of them are invisible, some try to stab your fingers if you've forgotten to wear gloves. And some are extremely poisonous. Every so often a tall dark haired man will show up, tease Potter (Draco still calls him Harry in his head), kiss Luna's cheek and drop off some new even stranger and even more dangerous plant.

When Draco finally cracks and gives in to his curiosity, asking Luna what the plants are for, she smiles brightly and drags him into the kitchen and flings open the large glass cabinet full of vials. They tinkly lightly as she points out one after the other and describes what each potion does. Most of them, Draco has never heard of.

"They're for newly unmasked people. The outside world is harsh on the skin, eyes and mucous membranes of people who spent their entire lives hidden away. Neville redistributes them to people who have recently been freed." 

Draco automatically lifts his hand to his cheek. It's become some kind of nervous gesture for him in the past weeks. 

"But I haven't been taking any of them." He says, panicked. 

Luna snorts and rises on her tiptoes so she can whisper in his ear: "Harry's been slipping them in your food and your face cream since the first day."

That makes Draco's ears heat up and without thinking he rushes out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He hasn't been to Potter's (Harry's) room because the man is frankly intimidated, but being dosed with potions is not fine with him no matter how beneficial they are. And Draco must have forgotten about all his manners because he simply pushes the door open, quite violently, and yells:

"Have you been drugging me, Potter?"

When nobody answers he takes another few steps into the room. There is a body sprawled on the small bed near the window. The mask and robes lay abandoned in a pile on the floor. Potter's (Harry's) head is covered by a pillow but Draco suddenly feels extremely curious about his face. When he still lived with his parents he rarely, if ever, thought about people's unmasked faces. But after being around Luna and that tall Neville fellow he can't help but wonder what Harry's face is like. 

The bed shifts with Harry's movement and the sheet covering his upper body slips just the tiniest bit, revealing a tanned and muscled shoulder. Draco just stands there, staring, as the light from the window plays softly upon the man's skin. A few healed and fresh scars can be seen below his shoulder blades. It makes him wonder how Harry got them. The bed squeaks again and the man sighs. It's not the annoyed, gruff sighing Draco has gotten used to hearing in his presence. It's soft and kind of adorable, really. Potter looks less like an angry old hound and more like a puppy. 

Before he gets caught, Draco slowly backs out of the room and leans against the wall in the hallway. His heart is fluttering in his ribcage. Dismissing the feeling as ridiculous, he heads back downstairs.

"Hey Luna, I bet I can make that potion twice as potent without any extra ingredients."

 

 Working with fresh, naturally grown ingredients is even more enjoyable than he would have ever imagined. Luna and Harry argued only a little before Draco was allowed to start helping out with the potion making. He's better at it than Luna, and much better than Potter. 

They're standing side by side over the cauldron, Harry's long sleeve brushing against Draco's thigh with every movement he makes. It's distracting. But clearly, Draco is nowhere near as distracted as Harry because not even fifteen minutes into the brewing he winds up with potion splashing on his hands. Draco hasn't had potion spills since he was 12 and the fact that a grown man can't properly brew is amusing.

He tells Harry just that as he grabs a rag to wipe off the goop on the man's hands. Harry grumbles, but his protests are cut off when Draco pours some healing salve on the reddish burns left over on his hands and starts rubbing it in.

Draco looks up, surprised at the sudden silence, and only then remembers that he wouldn't be able to see Harry's face anyway. The thought makes him a little sad.

"Why do you keep that thing on anyways? It's not like Luna and I will judge." He mumbles, delicately spreading the salve over Harry's rough fingers. He carefully wraps a clean bandage between each digit, the gesture feeling strangely intimate.

"Luna won't."

Well, that actually hurts.

"Listen, Potter, you took me in when I was on the run and other than being a complete asshole to me I know you're a decent person. Why would I judge?"

Harry removes his bandaged hand and flexes his fingers.

"Thanks for this."

"Potter, I asked you politely. Be courteous for once."

Suddenly Harry leans forward. Draco wonders when that creepy black mask stopped being so intimidating.

"I'd rather have you hate me because I'm an asshole than because of my face."

"You're ridiculous, Potter."

Draco doesn't know what possesses him to reach up to put his arms on both sides of Harry's hood and press his lips to the mask's cold curved mouth. He can hear Harry gasp behind the mask, but the warmth he can feel under the hood is definitely human and Draco just stays like that until he realizes how silly it must look. He slowly pulls away and clears his throat, going back to the cauldron just in time to add the next ingredient. Harry is silent by his side. He doesn't say anything as he rises and walks towards the door and Draco wants to smack himself for ruining everything. They will probably go back to ignoring each other and yelling whenever they accidentally bump in the doorway like during the first week of Draco's exile.

Harry's voice startles Draco out of his panicked internal monologue.

"For what it's worth, I'm genuinely sorry."

And then without further explanation he's gone.


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days go by in a strange sort of haze for Draco. Harry is gone most of the time, but when he's home he's either hovering over Draco's shoulder, a warm palm pressed against his back, or avoiding him completely to the point of falling off a chair and running outside at the sound of his voice. At least Luna seems to find the situation funny. 

"I've never seen Harry act this way. Well, except maybe around..."

"Luna, don't."

A flurry of dark robes interrupts the girl and Draco is torn between wanting to know who else Potter acts this strangely around and the disgusting jealousy that idea causes in him. If his father could see him. Daydreaming over a man who smuggles potions to criminals and harbours fugitives. 

Yet every time they find themselves face to face his hands itch to touch this man. Even the memory of cold fake lips pressed to his doesn't deter him from wanting that contact again. In the back of his mind bright green eyes find themselves in the place of Harry's hidden ones and Draco feels guilty for superposing those two images. By now he's seen enough unmasked people coming through the hut and no one has stuck in his memory as much as his messy haired dance partner. 

So they keep on being awkward and cautious, the tension nearly palpable every time Luna leaves them alone with each other. Which she seems to be doing on purpose, witty girl.

 

Draco is collecting reeds not too far away from the house when a shriek and loud explosions reach his ears. He drops the grass he has already picked up and sprints back, crouching to stay hidden from whoever caused the sounds. There are masked men and women in uniforms surrounding the hut and for the first time Draco can see how impressive the barrier around it is. Harry must have incredible powers to be able to keep up such a strong shield. Slowly, Draco crawls through the water, not caring for how dirty or cold he will be and manages to reach the back garden without being caught. A small figure is huddled by a bush and when he grabs Luna's wrist he winds up with a trowel dangerously near his face. 

"Oh, Draco, they've come for Harry. I don't know what he's still doing inside. He ran in all bloody and bruised and told me to leave but..." She frowns and shakes her head. "I can't just leave him."

Draco looks over at the shield hovering around them. It's flickering.

"Luna, go. I'll take care of Harry. Ok?"

Luna frowns, but there's not much she can do against these people without a wand. The girl nods and Draco hastily transforms her trowel into a portkey. Within seconds she's gone and it's only then that Draco realises how ridiculous he is. What can _he_ do against an entire squadron of trained professionals. He doesn't have time to dwell on that because one of the men in uniform shouts an order, the word "fire" making Draco's chest clench. The shield wavers and a shower of fireballs falls on the wooden roof and walls. The hut catches fire like it's made of straw and Draco throws himself at the back door before it's completely hidden by flames. 

Harry is nowhere to be seen but there's a trail of blood leading to the door of the tiny potion lab. The smoke is making it difficult to see anything so Draco blindly gropes for the door handle. Once it gives in he rushes inside and closes it behind him. The benefits of a potion lab is the fact that it is fireproof from the inside and the outside, in case a potion goes wrong (or Harry mishandles something), but the heat and smoke might still get to them. Draco squints, and calls out Harry's name. There is a weak wheezing noise in response from below him. Harry is lying on the floor, his arm reaching out for the potions cabinet. His mask is tossed aside, hood undone, revealing a mess of black untamed hair.

Draco kneels near the bleeding man and quickly uncorks a healing potion. For some reason he's not surprised that the lips to which he raises the flask are those red lips he'd been dreaming of for so long. He just hopes Harry will drink the bloody potion and feel well enough to get the hell out of the inferno. 

Luckily it seems to work. Harry's eyes fly open, the green irises even brighter than Draco remembers them. But this is no time to be poetic or lost in even the prettiest eyes. Draco performs an undetectable extension charm on his pocket, fills it with all the pre-made potions from the cabinet and yanks Harry against him, only earning a weak noise of protest.

"Let's see how useful I can be, huh?"

He blows a hole through the wall and they stumble out into the fresh air. The hut is completely consumed by fire, but at least the authorities are gone. Draco drags Harry further away from the blaze and finally sinks onto a nearby rock. 

"Where's Luna?"

"Portkeyed out of here. To Neville's."

Harry leans against the rock Draco is sitting on and closes his eyes, breathing heavily. His breaths come out as wheezes and his face is smeared with ashes and blood. It's never been as bad as this before, at least Draco hasn't seen him in this state up until this moment. He sticks his hand into the pocket and fumbles around, looking for another potion that might be useful, but a dirty bloodied hand stops his. 

"I'll be fine. Just...give me a minute."

"Potter, you..."

"I think you can call me Harry, we've reached that point. You saved me from a bloody fire, Draco. Even after you saw who I was."

Draco sighs and looks down at the man by his side. Harry looks completely serious, his face tense and jaw clenched. It's very tempting to just reach out and smooth his thumb over his jawbone. He decides against it. 

"Would you have preferred I leave you to suffocate in the smoke?" He asks instead, masking his irritation with fake curiosity.

"I would have understood why. Well, I'd be dead, but revenge makes sense sometimes and all that..."

"Revenge for what? You gave me freedom I didn't even know existed. You introduced me to people who _actually_ don't care about my appearance or status. You let me use my skills instead of my influence and money. I couldn't have been able to do that with a mask on."

"You're selling yourself short, Draco."

"No. _You're_ selling me short. I was mad that you left me unmasked in the hands of people who would have put me away for years for it. But if you think I want you dead you are very _very_ wrong."

He tries to stand, but Harry's hand is still on his arm and instead he winds up on his knees in the shallow water. Harry looks at him with a softer expression now, nearly apologetic.

"That's not what I meant. I was mad that my mission was nearly compromised because of you. But I wish I had unmasked you under different circumstances. Gods, I had no idea that you'd turn out to be so amazing. I'm never going to regret unmasking you because I got to get to know you properly and..."

Draco kisses him. And does he ever hate that sodding black mask in that moment. Harry's lips are a million times better than he could have imagined. And how responsive he is to Draco's fingers tugging at those messy black locks. Even though he is still clearly in pain and his bruised hands only hesitantly brush against Draco's cheeks, he just keeps on kissing Draco, pushing forward until the blond finds himself sprawled on his back in the water with a debauched looking Harry above him. Whether he looks so ruffled because of the fighting and fire or the kissing is uncertain. Whichever it is, Draco isn't about to complain, no matter how uncomfortable this position is. Harry could change his mind at any second and that would be terribly painful.

Just as Harry starts leaning in a loud laugh interrupts them. Draco's hand goes for his wand but Neville's familiar voice stops him in his tracks.

"When Luna said Harry was in trouble I imagined something different. And he seems to have things under control here."

Harry's face is red under the soot and drying blood. He stands up and pulls Draco to his feet, looking anywhere but the small group of newly arrived people. Draco sighs and looks over at the crowd of redheads and the usual visitors of the hut. The hut that is now burnt down to the ground. Neville follows his gaze to the column of smoke and pats his back comfortingly.

"It's fine, Dray. They were getting closer to finding this place anyway. We were about to move the potions to another secure location . We moved the keys a few days ago but weren't in time for Harry's hideout. It's going to take a lot of work but you're a great potions master, you'll catch up in no time."

Draco snorts and pats his pocket where the vials clink lightly against each other.

"Catching up won't be necessary, Longbottom."

Neville looks surprised for a brief moment but then whoops and punches the air.

"Hey fellas, Draco here managed to save the whole bloody potions stash! I knew Harry found himself a good one."

Draco smiles politely as every person pats his back or ruffles his hair. He's not sure about being a good one. Especially not Harry's good one, seeing how silent Harry is through the whole thing. One by one the crowd disapparates. When Neville is gone with a wink at Draco he sighs and clutches his wand in his hand. Right before he disapparates Harry stills his hand and turns him so they're face to face.

"There are still thousands of masks to remove. It will take years. Are you sure you can tolerate being around someone who ruins every other potion for that long?" He asks, just a hint of cautiousness in his voice. 

That's a ridiculous question. What else would he do? Draco nods and is rewarded with a blinding smile.

"Good. Nev's right. I did find myself a good one."

And with a soft press of his lips to Draco's he side-alongs them to somewhere new and, knowing Harry, probably dangerous. 

Draco doesn't really mind.


End file.
